


Hollywood High

by yuletide_archivist



Category: Actor RPF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-21
Updated: 2006-12-21
Packaged: 2018-01-25 06:44:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1637162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuletide_archivist/pseuds/yuletide_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>High School AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hollywood High

**Author's Note:**

> Much thanks to JyuuChan for brilliant beta duty, and to Cosmic who pretty much co-wrote half of this. 
> 
> Written for Amatia

 

 

 

 

"It's because he hates me," said Ben gloomily. He was picking at the pile of salt in front of him, the golden surroundings making Ben's gloom even more obvious.

Matt threw another salt packet at him. "Mr Clooney doesn't hate you. He just wants us to work a little for our grades."

"Oh sure, you'd say that. He looooves you. You're his little blue-eyed boy," Ben pointed out. He went back to picking up pinches of salt and drizzling them onto the table. "-YOU- didn't get the assignment to write a 'creative' -" he made air quotes with his fingers. "-story about _math_. I can do math, I can't _write_ about it."

"He gave us all different themes, so no." Matt had to admit this was true.

Ben emerged from his cloud of doom and gloom long enough to ask curiously, "What are you writing about, anyway?"

"Uh." Matt glanced down at his paper. "Cards. I'm going to write about a poker player, I think."

Ben gave him a look of utter loathing. "There are no words for how much I hate you right now."

"Jen is writing about spies," said Matt.

"I know. I hate her too."

Matt grinned at him.

"Please stop coming to my work," Casey said, placing milkshakes on the table in front of them. Matt transfered his grin to Casey, who pushed his MOOBY the COW hat back into place and glared. "Or I'll tell mom you went to the movies instead of studying."

"I'm studying!" Ben protested, flailing - which then upset the salt pyramid in front of him, causing it to spread over the table as a sea of salt.

Matt nodded vigorously.

Casey gave them a blank look, failing to see how that was at all relevant. "So?"

Ben frowned at him. "I hate little brothers too. Begone," he said in dismissal, waving him off.

"Likewise," said Casey and shuffled off to deal with the next order.

During that little interlude, Matt had leaned over to read Ben's scribbles. He started to snicker. "A dirty story about Cos and Pi?"

"At least it's creative!"

"I think you need help."

"That's why you're here. Not that you've been any, so far."

"Not that kind of help. I meant nice people in white coats coming to take you to their nice padded cells."

Ben glared, then sighed. "All right, no Cos and Pi smut, but then what?" He pointed at Matt. "Say I don't know and I swear..!"

Matt grinned. "I wasn't going to say that, I was going to say you don't have to take it that literally. Or mathematically, I suppose."

"What did Lu get?" Ben asked, while he considered Matt's suggestion. Matt's suggestions were sometimes excellent once you got him to be serious long enough to actually think about it.

"Huh? Oh. Flowers, I think. She's nearly as gloomy as you are."

"Why? I'd gladly write about flowers. I could write fucking _poetry_ about flowers. Pages of it."

"She wants to complain to Ms Jolie about it being discriminating or something," Matt said vaguely.

"Eh?"

"Having to write about flowers just because she's a girl."

"We could trade! I wouldn't mind!" Ben said, sitting up eagerly.

"I think Mr Clooney might," Matt said drily.

"Please refrain from letting your teacher-crush stand in the way of my educational career."

Matt pitched a packet of pepper at his head; he'd run out of salt. "The assignments were tailor-made, he said. Special and unique.

"Bullshit."

Matt secretly agreed. "Well, he's not gonna let you trade."

And they were back at the start as Ben said, "Because he hates me."

In the booth behind them, Mr Pitt grinned at the world and licked his fingers. Mr Clooney on the other hand, was trying very hard to hide behind the menu. Since the menu consisted of an ad for MOOBY BURGER 100% MOO! and nothing else it wasn't working very well.

"Why do you hate young Mr. Affleck so, George? Do tell me," Mr Pitt whispered, a smirk on his face.

"I don't," Mr Clooney hissed back between clenched teeth. "Just because I might _occasionally_ hand out some _slightly_ tricky exercises..."

"Uh-huh," Mr Pitt replied, licking his fingers for the third time in as many minutes.

Mr Clooney lowered the menu slightly to frown. "Stop doing that."

"Doing what?" said Mr Pitt innocently.

Mr Clooney gestured. "Doing -that-!"

"I'll stop when you tell me when you're going to run away to Vegas with your blue-eyed wunderkind?"

"Shut. up. They can _hear_ you," Mr Clooney hissed.

Mr Pitt glanced over the booth. "No, they're too busy being repressed and not flirting."

"But," he added, stealing another french fry off Mr Clooney's plate, "you're not denying your dishonorable intentions?"

Mr Clooney looked like he was trying very hard not to start flailing and thus _definitely_ drawing attention. "He's just a student! A very good student, of course, and, oh, you should read the short story he gave me the other day, it's really quite-- stop that."

Over in the other booth, serious studying was happening.

"Yeah, but!" said Matt, holding up a finger. "If you take Jen to the Winter Ball, she'll meet J. Do you _really_ want that to happen?"

Ben gave him an exasperated look. "I don't know what you have against J. She's always been nice to you."

"Ha."

"She has!"

Matt gave him a skeptical look, but said nothing.

"I'd have to ask Jen first anyway," Ben added.

Matt paused, and backtracked through the beginning of the conversation, before he'd begun his (very long) counter argument. "...I thought you said you had."

"No, I said I was -thinking- about it."

Matt considered this. "Have I convinced you otherwise?" he asked hopefully.

"No. And why are you so gung ho about this?" Ben gave him a suspicious look.

"I'm being a good friend! I have your best interests at heart! I--"

"He wants some sweet, sweet Affleck-loving of his own," Mr Pitt said cheerfully as he reached over to steal Matt's milkshake. Mr Clooney facepalmed. Matt went bright red.

"Buh?" said Ben, gaping.

"You're right," said Mr Pitt, turning back to Mr Clooney. "They really are adorable. All right, you've convinced me. When do I start teaching?"

"When hell freezes over and baby imps are ice skating. C'mon, get up. We're leaving," Mr Clooney informed him with an apologetic look in Matt's direction.

"Whu?" said Matt. He stared after the adults who left bickering over Mr Pitt's hypothetical future teaching career. He looked over at Ben, who blinked back, still in stunned fish mode. "Is it okay if we pretend that the last fifty seconds never happened?"

"...Yes."

"Wait." Matt sat up straight, eyes wide. "...Were they listening to us the whole time?"

Ben and Matt stared at each other in mute horror.

Then. "Naaaaah."

"Okay, can we skip ahead in time to when you've finished your story and I can go home now?"

Ben considered it. "No. If it was possible, yes, but as it's not..." He pointed down at his scribbles. "Ideas of Math, please."

Matt put his head on the table and whimpered. "You're right. Mr Clooney hates you -and- me."

Ben reached over the table to pat him on the head. "Buck up, buddy. If you come up with something good, maybe I'll ask you to the ball!"

"...I hate you."

Ben beamed. Suddenly the world seemed so much brighter.

 


End file.
